


The Hunter's Code

by Azusa_Calypse



Category: Teen Wolf (TV), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types
Genre: ;"D, But I hope you like this page 250 reference, Gun's, Hunter!Newt, Hunter!Thomas, I'm sad too, M/M, Mistakes are my own, Spoilers, The title has a sad meaning behind it, They hunt the things that hunt them, Thomas and Newt are both Hunters, Thomas is sad, Understand my reference Teen Wolf Fans, Werewolve's are a thing, You don't need to have seen Teen Wolf to understand what is happening, killers, this is angsty, this isn't a happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2018-01-29
Packaged: 2019-03-10 21:22:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13510038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azusa_Calypse/pseuds/Azusa_Calypse
Summary: Thomas and Newt have been hunter's for as long as they could remember.In love since they knew each other.It's the way it was and that's the way it has always been. And that's the way they always expected it to be.Until it's not.





	The Hunter's Code

Thomas was jogged back into reality when Newt straightened up. Thomas smiled shamelessly at his lover, having been caught staring at Newt's ass while said boy had been bent over gathering some maps from the bottom level of the cabinet.

What could he say? Newt was beautiful. And that beauty rightfully extended to his ass. Thomas would tell Newt himself that exact thing if he asked. But he didn't, because then he'd get whacked on the head by something at the blond's disposal. (It wouldn't hurt horribly, but it still was a right shock to his senses when it happened.)

And that time was now. Newt hitting him on the head absentmindedly, a reminder that right now was serious work time and not the time to be ogling. Yet, a soft smile played over Newt's features, cluing Thomas in that his love wasn't mad or anything of the sort, but just wanted him to focus on the task.

Thomas smiled lightly back, and turned to the maps splayed across the table. A huntin' they will go after all.

It was an Alpha this time. Alone from what they could tell. And that is peculiar on it's own, but the strangeness of the attacks in the small town they found the Alpha in was even stranger. And that made the Alpha dangerous. Thus! The maps. They were going to plot this the hunt out carefully. Crossing all of their i's and dotting all of their t's. Wait- Dotting all their i's and crossing all of their t's. That's the saying.

Another moderately soft whack on the head brought him out of his thoughts. Okay so maybe he wasn't as focused as he should be, but he could focus. Especially with the face Newt was making. Expressing his slight impatience and inquiry if they could get a move on.

Thomas smiled apologetically and steeled himself to focus on what they were going to do to ensnare the alpha.

\---

After a little more than two hours passed, the plan had been thought out, nitpicked to the point where it was annoying, and two back up plans to go off of in the theoretical chance that the alpha wasn't as disadvantaged as they had gathered. It was a good plan if Thomas said so himself, and he did. It had to be considering one fowl move and either one of them could end up dead or worse.

He stretched lightly and was satisfied by a few cracks and pops sounded from a miscellaneous part of his body. His partner seated to the left of him doing the same. Silently working in tandem with Newt they both headed upstairs with a small yawn from Newt and another slight stretch from Thomas. Rounding the corner of the small flat they had come to take as their base, Thomas headed to the bedroom and Newt headed to the bathroom.

Following what they had set to routine Thomas undid the covers on their bed, almost unthinkingly, like he could juggle flaming swords while undoing the bed covers and he would only have to focus on not getting the covers singed. Newt was brushing his teeth and doing whatever he did before jumping into bed. Thomas would follow right after to brush his teeth, probably use the toilet, change into some comfy pants, and then back to Newt it was.

Following through on what he already knew he was going to do, he stripped off his shirt, leaving him in his long comfortable pajama pants.

Thomas settled into bed, turning sideways to face Newt, who still looked as ethereal in Thomas' eyes as the day he met him. Thomas knew he'd never tire of looking into the eyes opposite of his.

If you had to categorize the shade simply; Newt's eyes were brown. But just brown would never do the color justice. His eyes were everything. Like when you have all the colors of the rainbow, and you mix them together, and the would become the exact brown that was Newt's eyes. Thomas knew that Newt's eyes contained all the colors, just like the mixed paint, but it was more like his eyes didn't want to take just one of them, so they decided to take all of them and make something beautifully new.

Newt smiled softly, nuzzling into the pillow and gazing at Thomas with sleep written into his expression. Thomas smiled gently, the atmosphere too soft to disturb with words. Thomas wondered what Newt thought of when he looked into his eyes. Did he see the world in Thomas’ eyes the same way Thomas saw the world in his?

He took the chance to take Newt's hand before completely settling down. Newt's hands were calloused, but smooth, time making his hands strong, but not rough.

Thomas kissed Newt drowsily on the forehead before letting sleep completely envelop him. The only thing making it through the haze of unconsciousness was Newt's finger softly rubbing circles into his palm. It was the only thing he'd want to feel through unconsciousness, after all.

\---

Gun shots rang out through the warehouse, the light clattering of the shells against the floor following with it. He reloaded his gun and continued shooting towards the black blur that was steadily growing slower the more bullets fired at him. Newt was above him, double checking the net had been laced thoroughly with mistletoe and wolfsbane excrement.

A sharp whistle was the only warning before the net was dropped on top of the weakening alpha. Howls of pain rang out, screams of agony, piercing wails, you name it. Anything you could label the sounds it was making, wouldn't quite capture the sound of this wolfs' dying cries.

Thomas never liked the sounds the dying animals made. It made a knife-like feeling twist in his gut. But it never lasted for long. There was the ever pressing reminder of what this wolf did. Killed, mutilated, maimed, he had done them all. And that made the pain of killing someone, dull and disappear. This wolf was savage, and he wouldn't take any pleasure over killing him, but he wouldn't lose any sleep either.

Sending a glance towards Newt as his partner dropped from the raptors above them, Thomas focused on checking his weapon, making sure he had enough bullets loaded.

Aiming- large red eyes poured into his soul, they were wide, begging. But the wolf didn't say a thing. Pride most likely keeping his mouth tightly clamped.

Thomas' gun was merely precaution, Newt was the one tonight to take the creatures life. It was the agreement they had between them. One would do the research, the other would do the action.

It was Thomas who found the case and thus Thomas had done the research, looking up brutal police reports containing photo's of bloody bodies and former pictures of the mutilated. Always on the night of the full moon. It wasn't that hard of a connection to make once he stumbled across it. Neither the research or the action was necessarily a easy job so they both considered it a fair back and forth trade off.

Newt killed the wolf quickly, not cruel enough to prolong his pain anymore than they already had.

With a soft sigh and a fond shake of the head signaling the end of a successful hunt, Newt looked at Thomas with a small smile. Thomas returned the small gesture and bent down to gather the net from the body of the wolf.

It was always a relief when they finished the hunt; came out on top. With neither him nor Newt hurt. That was always a glorious feeling. Knowing that they took down a murderer, somebody who absolutely needed to be put down in order to save other people's lives. It was a cooling feeling, ice over the burn from taking another life.

The body rolled slightly as Thomas pulled the net out from under the slowly cooling corpse. Blood splattered near the bodies head and Thomas didn't think anything of it. It wasn't uncommon that blood would still splatter from a dead body. Probably a clot in the skin being released from where the wound was.

But when Newt dropped to his knees with a silent gasp of shock, Thomas did indeed start to think something of it.

The color red that was just so wrong against his lover's lips, eyes wide in absolutely the wrong kind of surprise, an arm out, which wasn't extended to Thomas in want of an item, in want of Thomas to come closer, in want of simply another hand to hold.

Everything Newt was doing was just... _wrong_.

His own knees met the ground harshly, scrambling from his squatted position to his lover, catching him before he could fall to the already bloodied ground.

Thomas couldn't tell if the whimpers he was hearing were from him or Newt. With the look Newt was giving him, it certainly wasn't Newt.

It was two precious seconds before he fully noticed the shoes in his peripheral vision. Black leather, out of place against the concrete.

His gun was out and pointed before he even thought about it. Pointed at the former human's muzzle dripping with blood, with _Newt's_ blood.

The werewolf was down before either of them had a chance to react, and it was over too quickly for Thomas' liking. But he had more to worry about than a vengeance towards an already dead wolf.

The gun dropped with a dull clang and Thomas cradled Newt with all the gentleness that the situation required. Thomas avoided carefully the bite wound situated gruesomely on the side of Newt's neck. Unmarred skin now torn painfully. Grasping, panicked hands clutched at his jacket. Tears that weren't Newt's falling onto bloodied cheeks.

All they could do was rock back and forth silently. Holding onto each other as if when they let go the world would fall apart around them. Though the world seemed to be falling apart already, despite their tries to hold it together.

Thomas didn't know how long exactly the sat there, choked cries and tears streaming. But it was long enough for Newt's skin to draw back in the blood, long enough for his neck to stitch itself back together, and long enough for his skin to have no trace of any wound having ever been there.

It was exactly long enough for the too simply categorized brown of Newt's eyes to turn the tarnished yellow that both he and Thomas hunted. But it wasn't long enough for the tears to stop. It wasn't long enough for Thomas to come to the same conclusion that Newt had already come to himself.

It would never be enough. What time they had, would never be enough time spent together. The 'I love you's' already said would never be enough to properly tell the other they love them. 

It would never be enough.

The soft sound of the gun's barrel scraping against the ground echoed throughout the warehouse. The gun was already cold by the time it was pressed back into Thomas' hand.

With the muted sounds of fabric against fabric, Newt moved back from Thomas' grasp. The hard cold of a gun pressing into one hand and the soft warmth of Newt's hand in the other.

Thomas started crying harder. His chest heaving. Finally caught up with his lover's thoughts.

He'd never learn.

A soft whack on the head. This time by Newt's hand. Nothing else accessible to the blond's reach apparently.

Always unfocused.

Thomas couldn't help the twitching smile, and he couldn't resist leaning in. They had of course kissed with nothing more than just love driving them. It was inevitable. Chaste ones, slow ones, long ones that simply stole their breath. Happy kisses.

But they had never kissed with the meaning of goodbye behind it.

He gripped Newt's hands tight as he pulled away, but he couldn't even indulge in that. All he could feel was the jagged edge of the gun, digging unpleasantly into his hand.

Newt smiled. And Thomas knew;

That nothing in the world would be okay ever again.

Delicately, Newt raised Thomas's hand, the gun limp in his grip, but held in place by Newt's guiding fingers.

The gun—centered with the expanse of pale forehead that Thomas could never resist pressing a kiss to—didn't tremble. Thomas' hand was deathly still, just as he had taught himself throughout the years. A shaky hand made a shaky shot and a shaky shot could miss and end up doing more harm than good.

The corpse laying a few feet away was a stark reminder or what the harm could be.

Thomas' eyes stared into yellow ones. Though the rare color, they couldn't compare to the expanse of brown that was Newt's eyes. 

The rainbow hidden behind something beautifully new.

With Newt's hand slipping from it's guiding role, Newt sat back on his legs, face peaceful, accepting. And his lips carved out-

"Please, Tommy. Please."


End file.
